


Losing Control

by Salambo06



Series: Tumblr Collection [7]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Anal Sex, Bottom John, Bottom Sherlock, M/M, New Relationship, Possessive Sherlock, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-24
Updated: 2015-12-24
Packaged: 2018-05-08 22:11:03
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,004
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5515181
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Salambo06/pseuds/Salambo06
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"The first time they have sex, Sherlock loses control of his mind and body entirely. He didn't plan to. He had thought he could keep his focus and engrave the evening into memory, but John’s bare and gorgeous body hovers above him, surrounding him completely and Sherlock can't think properly"</p>
            </blockquote>





	Losing Control

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you to [Heather](http://snogbox1.tumblr.com/) for her job as a beta !  
> [My Tumblr](http://letthechoirsing.tumblr.com/)

The first time they have sex, Sherlock loses control of his mind and body entirely. He didn't plan to. He had thought he could keep his focus and engrave the evening into memory, but John’s bare and gorgeous body hovers above him, surrounding him completely and Sherlock can't think properly. It’s all too fast, too messy and glorious. There are hands on his chest, caressing and teasing, and lips on his neck, leaving marks Sherlock wishes will never fade. There is sweat running down their spines and foreheads, making it impossible for either of them to hold on. There is a tangle of legs and arms, and Sherlock’s not sure he can still discern where his body ends, nor when John’s begins. There is John’s mouth and fingers, on him and in him, making Sherlock gasp and moan incoherent words, surely nonsense but he can’t bring himself to care. It’s too much and not enough at the same time. There are sounds of naked bodies slamming together and tongues sliding against one another filling the room, obscene and hypnotizing, and Sherlock’s ears are buzzing. When it crashes, his orgasm is bright white. It blinds him, takes all the words and rational thoughts out of him. He lies there, relearning to breathe and listens as John falls asleep, so very close.

The next few times they fumble together on their bed, the sofa or even the kitchen table, Sherlock makes sure to remain in control. He can’t let himself lose his focus again. He needs to remember the way John kisses him gently, almost shyly at first, asking silently for Sherlock’s approval. He needs to remember how John’s kisses change once he’s certain Sherlock wants him as much as he does, followed by some biting, licking and gentle pulls on Sherlock’s lower lip. He needs to remember John’s face as he pushes inside him, the first breach always making him frown, his mouth hanging open in a silent moan as his cock fills Sherlock in the most delicious way. He needs to remember how John’s loses his pace, his arms trembling and lips demanding more and more as his climax approaches. 

Sherlock can’t let himself miss all this. Because soon enough John will realise that this is insane, that no one in their right mind would want to continue whatever is going on between them. John would be right, of course. It is _insane_ and even dangerous Sherlock comes to realise one evening. John is sleeping next to him, one arm thrown over Sherlock’s chest. Sherlock watches him and the need to imprint himself on John, to melt into him and never leave fills him again. He wants to attach himself to John, make it impossible for him to forget that he belongs to Sherlock, and _only_ to him. He wants to take him apart and crush him, only to build him up the very next second. Sherlock wants John to taste and smell like them every minute of every day. He wants to claim him, let the whole world know that John Watson is and ever will be ruined for anyone else, that he will only love and want Sherlock for the rest of his life. _Yes_ , Sherlock needs to remember all of it. Because one day John would come to his senses and leave, all of their time together vanishing into thin air, leaving Sherlock with only memories and ghosts of forgotten passion. 

Sherlock tries his best. He really does. But the day comes when John straddles his hips, lifts himself up just enough to let Sherlock’s aching erection slide inside him and Sherlock’s good will and efforts are reduced to nothing. He throws his head back, digs his fingers in the burning skin of John’s thighs and cries out, _loud_. John undulates his hips lightly, the most erotic moans escaping him and Sherlock forces himself to look back at him. The tightness and the heat are making it impossible to concentrate and the moment John raises his body again, his cock almost slipping out of him, Sherlock realises he should have known all along. There is not a chance he will ever be able to get used to sex with John. Not enough to stop being surprised and completely taken aback every time they find themselves tangled in the heat of passion. Not when John is riding him with dark, hungry eyes, filled with lust and envy. His hands are running up and down Sherlock’s chest, his arse slamming against Sherlock’s pelvis with every motion and Sherlock wants to kiss him, badly. He reaches out and without a word John lowers himself down onto his chest, Sherlock beginning to thrust up into him with oblivion. They kiss and kiss, a mess of tongues and teeth and it cannot be more perfect. John’s muscles are tightening around Sherlock’s cock, sending a thrill down his body, his toes curling and fingers itching for more. He grabs at John’s arse, pounding into him with force, swallowing all of John’s desperate moans and whimpers. Sherlock is losing control again. He can’t focus, can’t keep his eyes open. But he needs to watch, remember John’s face as he comes with Sherlock buried deep inside him for the first time. So Sherlock closes his hand around John’s cock, stroking him fast and hard as he studies him closely. John raises his body again, arching his back and crying out loudly. _God Sherlock, yes. So good, fuck, fuck. Sherlock. Sherlock. I love you, god, I love. Yes, yes. I love you. I love you._

It’s insane. Sherlock knows it. Apparently John does too. Yet, it doesn’t prevent him from pushing Sherlock onto their bed, spreading his legs wide open before swallowing him down, the rumble of John’s moans making Sherlock shiver and squirm on the sheets. It’s insane and scary and bloody brilliant, and Sherlock learns to accept losing control from time to time. It doesn’t really matter anyway. It appears that John is not planning on going anywhere.

**Author's Note:**

> Kudos and comment are very appreciated :)


End file.
